


See You Again

by tshjortile



Category: Bakuten Shoot Beyblade, Beyblade
Genre: Communication is hard sometimes, Established Relationship, M/M, Roommate!Boris to the rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29746260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tshjortile/pseuds/tshjortile
Summary: Kai’s voice is distant as it reaches his ear. “Yuriy, grandfather said I-“Yuriy only realises he’s jumped from his seat when it hits the cold tile floor behind him. He stares at his phone that’s clenched in his hands. “Fuck you, Kai,” he mumbles, and cuts the line.The one where a misunderstanding leads to Yuriy deep cleaning the kitchen.This is part of a little Valentine's fic exchange between my friends and me. (:
Relationships: Hiwatari Kai/Yuri Ivanov | Tala Valkov, Yuri Ivanov | Tala Valkov & Boris Kuznetsov | Bryan Kuznetsov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	See You Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beytotheblade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beytotheblade/gifts).



> Hi Bey! I hope this little fic is to your liking! (:

“… I swear I never saw him _that_ angry. He stormed off so fast you wouldn’t believe it.”

Yuriy waves at Boris as he stries past his room and into the kitchen as he’s talking to Kai.

“Hold on a sec, I need to get my hands free,” he fumbles with his phone, cradles it between his ear and his shoulder to get his hands free. He rummages around the fridge, painfully aware of the noise he’s making. He needs food, but he also cannot stop talking to Kai. He pours himself a bowl of cereal.

“Yuriy, what are you even _doing_?” Kai sounds irritated; it’s probably because of the noise.

“Food,” he explains as he sets down his bowl. “But continue. How did the meeting end after you made your grandfather storm out? I’m still amazed you managed to do that, by the way”

He hears Kai’s laugh from the other end of the line. “Yeah, me too. I don’t kwow what it was, actually. I didn’t think my fashion choices made that much of an impact in the firm.”

“I guess a very gay bowtie does things for some people,” Yuriy chuckled before he turned his attention back to his cereal.

“Speaking of all things gay … wanna tell me now what you’re wearing?”

The sudden change of tone from light and conversational to sexy is so sudden Yuriy caughs up half his cereal onto the kitchen table because he’s so surprised. He swears, wiping his mough.

“Fuck, Kai!” Hurriedly, he grabs one of the rags to wipe down the kitchen table, still coughing.

Kai just laughs at him, dark and sexy, and the redhead detests him as much as he loves him. “Well, so not sorry. You still wearing your sexy sweatpants?”

Yuriy can’t help but smirk. “You mean the ones that make my ass look just right? If you’re good, I might send you another pic,” he teases.

Kai’s responds with a strangled noise that means that he’s hooked now. “What do you want for it?”

“Well, what are _you_ wearing?” Yuriy smiles to himself as he twirls a strand of hair on his finger. “Specifically, what are you wearing when I’ll come pick you up at the airport next week?”

The silence that hits him on the other end of the line says everything. Yuriy feels his mood drop to Antarctic temperatures. He waits for one heartbeat, a second one, a third one, and takes a deep breath before speaking again. “Kai, really?”

Yuriy _tries_ to not sound accusing, he really does, but this is not the first time they’ve had this conversation. He’s done with it. Yuriy feels the burning ice of anger in the pit of his stomach like a weight pulling him down. He fights his instincts to run or lash out. Instead, he looks around the kitchen. It’s messy, and a bit dirty, like it’s always been. He should definitely clean that.

Kai’s voice is distant as it reaches his ear. “Yuriy, grandfather said I-“

Yuriy only realises he’s jumped from his seat when it hits the cold tile floor behind him. He stares at his phone that’s clenched in his hands. “Fuck you, Kai,” he mumbles, and cuts the line. He only stops himself from throwing his phone out of the window because Boris looks in. He walks over, a worried expression on his face and silently picks up the chair. He gently pushes Yuriy to sit before he takes the phone out of his fist.

“He won’t come?” He asks like he knows the answer already. Yuriy shakes his head and feels very, very tired all of a sudden. At the same time, the dirt in the kitchen makes him itch all over in the worst kinds of way. He turns off his phone and goes looking for the cleaning supplies. It’s easier to focus on the small problems first.

\---

_„What the fuck_ , _”_ is the first thing he hears once the door has been kicked shut. “You’re still cleaning?”

He can’t see, really, because he’s crawled into the space under the sink to clean it out. It’s impressive how much garbage miss the actual bin. The redhead just huffs as scrubbs on a particularly stubborn part of the cupboard that just won’t get clean. It’s easier than to think about his phone that is turned off on his nightstand.

He feels a presence step behind him. “Yura”

Yuriy doesn’t have to wiggle out of the space under the sink to know that Boris is standing behind him with his hands on his hips. He practically feels the exasperated look he’s been wearing for the past few weeks.

“Yura,” Boris repeats in his _do you want me to escalate this_ voice. It’s a clear warning, one that Yuriy has to pay attention to. He stubbornly wants to curl up in the tight space he’s squished most of his upper body in out of spite like one of the reptiles he works with.

Instead, he uncurls. He wiggles out of the cupboard awkwardly, to sit cross-legged on their spotless kitchen floor. Yuriy stares up at Boris who just sighs.

“What?” If the question comes out more icy than it’s supposed to be, well. He’s had a series of bad days. He’s allowed to.

There’s rustling of clothes as Boris gets down on his knees and grabs Yuriy’s hand to examine the dry skin. “What did you clean with?” He asks, brows furrowed. He’s worried, Yuriy knows that, but at the same time he can’t bring himself to care.

He nods numbly towards the cleaning supplies that are sat on the counter. Boris’ hand is too warm. He tries to pull away, but to no avail.

“What did we talk about?” Boris’ tone is stern, and Yuriy knows with a look into his steely eyes that he’s unyielding today.

He hesitates. “That the kitchen doesn’t need any more deep cleaning.”

“And?” Boris raises an eyebrow.

Yuriy presses his lips together in a thin line. He’s silent.

“And?” Boris repeats, clearly done with playing nice. That’s fair, Yuriy thinks. He’s been patient with him for the past two weeks.

“… and that I wear gloves and not use the heavy shit if I _do_ need to clean anything.”

Yuriy swallows. Clearly, he’s been found out, cleaning yet _again_ because he didn’t know what to do with himself, again. He stares at his hands that are red and raw and dry from the cleaning supplies he’s used on the oven.

Boris sighs, again. He looks at Yuriy for a long time, the expression of his face unreadable. “You’re not doing yourself a favor by hurting yourself,” he then says, softly. It’s worse than a punch to the face, really.

Yuriy hangs his head. “Sorry. I’ll try to be better”

He feels Boris’ heavy hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “Have you heard anything from Kai yet?”

Yuriy winces as if he was in pain before shaking his head.

Boris breathes in for _one, two, three, four_ , holds for _one, two, three, four_ , and then breathes out slowly for _one, two, three, four_. When he speaks, his voice is controlled, but the threat is clear. “I’m going to end this motherfucker”

“No, you’re not,” Yuriy glances up to meet his eye. He holds his gaze stubbornly. He stands up with heavy limbs and heads out of the kitchen, pausing when he reaches the doorway. He looks around the kitchen. “I think it’s clean enough now here. I’ll be in my room”

It’s easier to focus on how clean their kitchen looks now than his aching heart.

He manages to leave his phone turned off and focusses on Anna Achmatova’s poetry Kai gifted him for his last birthday.

\---

The door to his and Boris’ appartment falls shut. There are heavy footsteps, the rustling of clothing, and the heavy _thud_ of a bag thrown into a corner. Yuriy doesn’t bother to look up from the book he’s reading to distract himself from looking at his phone.

When there’s a knock on his door, he doesn’t bother to look up. “Go away, Boris! I don’t want to hear it!” He calls through the door.

Instead of stomping away with heavy footsteps, like Boris usually does, the doorhandle moves, and there’s a familiar head of blue-and-silver hair. Yuriy blinks, incredulously.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?”

Kai stands in the door uselessly for a moment, blinking like a dear in the headlights, which – okay, which is fair. He probably expected Yuriy to be happy to see him.

And Yuriy is, he _really_ is, it’s just –

It’s complicated.

He feels delirious.

Kai steps into the room and closes the door behind him. Hallucinations usually don’t do this.

Yuriy holds up a hand. “Stop.”

Kai furrows his brows, blinks at him. “What’s wrong?”

The words leave Yuriy’s mouth too fast to hold them back. “If you’re a hallucination, I need you to get out of here. I’m too sleep deprived to deal with a hallucinated version of you and then face reality where you’re not here.” He pauses to give Kai a once-over.

Kai, who may be the result of a fever dream, raises a brow at him. “Aw, you missed me? How embarrassing for you,” he teases, probably to light the mood.

Yuriy snorts against his will. It should be embarrassing, really, but at the same time it starts to sink in. Kai is-

“Fuck, you’re here,” Yuriy breathes and breaches the distance between them with two steps. He grips his shoulders tightly, as if that could keep him from dissolving into thin air. Kai wraps him into a tight embrance.

“I’m here”, he mumbles into Yuriy’s shoulder. The redhead nods as he returns the hug tightly.

“Fuck,” he breathes, burying his fingers in Kai’s hair. He breathes again, biting his tongue because his emotions are too much to bear. He pulls back a little to give Kai a stern look. “Fuck you. Why are you here? I thought you said something about your grandfather.”

“I was about to tell you grandfather gave me more days off than expected and that I’d get here a day early,” Kai explains. “But I never got the chance to because you’re a shithead and just went and assumend and turned your damn phone off.”

He bumps his fist against Yuriy’s chest. It doesn’t even hurt, but knocks the wind out of his lungs. Yuriy catches his hand and just holds it there, on his chest. It’s hard to breathe without contact.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he declares after a while. And then, with a voice so small it’s almost inaudible, “I’m sorry”

Kai laughs and trails his hand up to cup Yuriy’s cheek. “No shit,” he agrees. “Can I kiss you now? If I have to wait any longer I’m going to implode.”

“Please,” Yuriy breathes and leans in.


End file.
